


leave me out with the waste (this is not what I do)

by electriceell



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 02, Sadness, Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, a lot of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6715930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electriceell/pseuds/electriceell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Matt falls into an easy schedule: get up, work, cut, first aid, Daredevil, check on Foggy and Karen, cut, first aid, repeat."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Matt

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from KM: After everything that happened in season 2, destroying his two healthy relationships, watching Elektra die, Matt feels like he can't go on and makes an attempt on his life.  
> http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/8423.html?thread=16234727#cmt16234727
> 
> This is my first DD fic, so I'm a little scared. This author knows a lot about depression, suicide, and self-harm and almost nothing about Catholicism, so I'm sorry for any errors there. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: self-harm, suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, depression

The days have begun to blur together for Matt and that’s when he really starts thinking about it. He’s never really been afraid of death, or really his own mortality to be more precise. The idea of Foggy or Karen or Claire dying scares him endlessly. The image of finding their bodies cold and empty in an alley, as he had his father’s, is the only thing that get’s him out of bed.

No law firm, no job, no friends. Really, what does Matt have to live for? He’s tried his hardest to protect his city, but every night he falls short; there are always more screams than he can get to and he knows it. Every morning the news reminds him of the lives he didn’t save, the people he didn’t protect. Because when it comes down to it, he knows he isn’t good enough. 

Be careful of the Murdock boys, they got the devil in them.

After Elektra died, after Matt unceremoniously drove his only two friends away from him, Matt hadn’t gotten out of bed for days. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t think, couldn’t even get out to be Daredevil; he just listened to the screams and wails of the city and hated himself more and more. It was pathetic and he knew it. _It’s not how you hit the mat; it’s how you get up._ But he couldn’t get up. He can hear Stick's taunts from childhood. And he remembers how he survived _those days_ , the days when everything was too much for his little body to bear.

The sting of razor blade across his wrist clears the smog in his brain, lets him feel human again. The pain, the blood, they feel like penance, like he’s making up for the hurt he’s caused, like if he does it enough he can bleed the devil from his body. And if (when) the cuts get too deep, it doesn’t matter. He knows how to stitch up wounds. No one needs to know about this. It’s not like there is anyone to know about it; no one sees him so he doesn’t even have to be discreet. 

And it helps. He can go back to being Daredevil and he can protect the people who need protection. And if he checks in to make sure Foggy and Karen are safe, that wouldn’t be wrong. It only kills him a little and he deserves it. They deserve lives without the disaster that is Matt Murdock pulling them down. And their lives go on; Foggy with his corner office at his new, hotshot firm, Karen with her writing. Foggy has Marci and Karen and he’s so lovable he picks up friends wherever he goes and Karen is tenacious and her coworkers quickly take a liking to her, they aren’t exactly friends yet, but she has people in her life. Their lives go on without Matt and it isn’t a hurt he can’t forget with a few well-placed cuts. He knows they’re getting deeper every night and tries to care, but he can’t. 

Matt’s working on commission for a small law firm, so he can do most of his work from home (in his bed on days when his limbs feel like lead and he needs to cut to even think). He falls into an easy schedule: get up, work, cut, first aid, Daredevil, check on Foggy and Karen, cut, first aid, repeat. Sometimes he sneaks in a few hours of sleep after cleaning up whatever wounds he picked up as Daredevil, but it makes him feel guilty. That’s time he could have spent helping people as Matt Murdock or Daredevil. On Sundays he takes time to go to Mass, make confession, talk to Father Lantom. It’s the only real human contact he gets anymore and it’s selfish, but he can’t give it up. Months go by like this. Matt gets more careless when fighting criminals, relishing when they land blows. He’s running out places to cut and running out of reasons to live. 

Then, one Sunday, Matt doesn’t show up to church and Father Lantom feels his heart sinking. He had noticed the growing circles below Matthew’s eyes, different from his customary bruises, noticed the way that Matthew’s voice shook while he confessed to checking on his friends, and he had seen the wounds that peaked out of ends of Matthew’s dress shirt, too precise to be battle wounds. Father Lantom had hoped that Matthew would confide in him, allow him to help, but now he worries that it is too late.


	2. Foggy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is short TT.TT

Foggy is not amused when his phone starts screaming at him early Sunday morning. Well, maybe not screaming at him per se and maybe not early per se, but he’s hungover, leave him alone. 

“Hello?” Foggy mumbles into his phone.

“Hello, is this Franklin?”

Who the hell…? 

No. 

He can only think of one reason Matt’s priest/therapist would be calling him and his heart feels like it’s in his throat, his stomach dropped down to his feet.

“What’s wrong with Matt?” Foggy manages past the growing lump in his throat.

“I was hoping you could tell me, Franklin. He didn’t show up for Mass this morning for the first time in months. I had hoped he had reconciled with you or at least reached out to you if he had been thinking about doing something… dire.”

Something dire? Sure, Matt has depression, but he’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch and he wouldn’t go out like that. Would he? Foggy’s not so sure now. Elektra left him again, this time permanently, and he, Foggy Nelson, had allowed Matt to push him out of his life. 

“Fuck,” is all Foggy get’s out before he hangs up, pulling on pants and a shirt, grabbing Matt’s spare key that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to return. He hails a cab quickly, shouts Matt’s address at the driver and calls Matt for the first time in months. 

Voicemail. 

Foggy keeps trying because he doesn’t know what else to do, he can’t fly across rooftops and save people like Matt does and isn’t it ironic that now Matt’s the one that needs saving, a bit of manic laughter bubbles up, and can’t this cab go any faster.


	3. Matt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this one is even shorter... sorry.

“Foggy, Foggy, Foggy, Foggy,” Matt can hear his phone chirping at him as his begins to slip blissfully towards unconsciousness. His lips quirk up in a smile as he thinks, “This is alright. I’m glad Foggy’s name will be the last thing I hear.” 

Matt squeezes his rosary in his hand, feels the crucifix digging into his palm, feels his blood flow quicken with the motion, feels the bliss of finally being done wash over him. 

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been seven days since the confession that will have been my last. I have committed a mortal sin against You and I’m sorry. Father, I just couldn’t keep going anymore. And I’ve saved people, prevented deaths that would have occurred, so that counts for something. Please Father, forgive me for desecrating this gift of life that you gave me, for wasting these gifts; forgive me father for I have sinned…” 

He’s at the very edge of consciousness now, approaching critical blood loss, nearing the end. He hopes there’s a place in Heaven for him to be with his father. And really, dying isn’t so bad. He feels like he’s floating away. 

“Jesus, _fuck_ , Matty!” 

How nice of his brain to have conjured Foggy’s voice blaspheming one last time to ease Matt into death.


	4. Foggy

“No, no, no, no… Matty what have you done?” 

Foggy had gotten no response when he had pounded on the door, his hands shaking so hard he dropped the spare key twice before unlocking the door. 

That’s when it hits him. He may not have Matt’s super sense of smell, but the coppery tang of blood is overwhelming. Foggy’s heart tries to leap out of his chest as he races into Matt’s apartment, praying he isn't too late. 

“Dear God, dear God, fuck…” 

Matt’s not in the living room or kitchen and isn’t responding to Foggy’s frantic cries for him. The search through Matt’s tiny apartment doesn’t take long and Foggy finds Matt in a pool of his own blood on those silk sheets he loved. 

“Jesus, fuck, Matty!” Foggy could feel tears welling up as the exclamation leaked out, thinking of how Matt should scold him with a quiet, “Language,” and not be lying motionless in an ever growing puddle of blood.

To make things worse, Matt’s lips are turned up in a serene smile, his crucifix clutched tightly in his hand and his glasses set carefully on his bedside table. 

It’s only a split second, but to Foggy time stops as he takes in the deep gashes in Matt’s wrists surrounded by a minefield of scabs and scars. How long had this been going on? He sees how pale Matt’s face has gotten, somehow even lighter than he normally was.

A primal cry rips from his throat as he pulls out his cellphone.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Foggy realizes he’s incoherently sobbing and he has to stop if Matt has any chance of… no, can’t think of that if he wants to _stop_ the horrible wailing coming out of him.

“My friend, he slit his wrists, he tried to kill himself,” Foggy manages to get out before shouting Matt’s address for the second time today. Then he pulls Matt’s limp body into his arms.

The operator tries to get useful information out of Foggy after that, but he has nothing to offer. He has no idea how long ago Matt slit his wrists, doesn't know if he's taken any drugs, but he knows that Matt’s losing blood quickly and he feels a little cold and they need to hurry, now! Foggy grabs the pillowcases to apply pressure to his wrists hoping to staunch the bleeding a little, give his best friend a better chance. It’s as he’s pushing down on Matt’s wrists so hard he’s worried they’ll break that Foggy notices the little scrap of paper resting beside Matt’s hand, soaked in blood. The note is short, written in Matt's terrible handwriting, and Foggy can only just make it out through the blood.

_**Foggy – I’m sorry for everything I did to you and Karen. Tell her I’m sorry for me. You deserve so much more and now you’re free of me. I’m sorry and I love you.** _ ****

Foggy reads it again and again until his tears are too thick to see through. Then he collapses onto Matt and listens to his thin, stuttering heartbeat. 

When the EMTs arrive just a few minutes later Foggy is unaware of their presence and they have to pry him away from Matt. 


	5. Karen

Karen is a little surprised that Foggy is calling her on Sunday morning. It wasn’t that she and Foggy don’t talk or grab drinks (anywhere but Josie’s, where Matt’s shadow lurked), but they usually texted. And they had just decided yesterday to do drinks (“get plastered,” according to Foggy) at this new bar near HCB. And what was Foggy doing up already? Maybe it was butt dial? Best to pick up in case he was actually trying to get ahold of her. 

“Hey Foggy, what’s up?” Karen chirped. At the sound of Foggy’s uneven breathing and the ubiquitous sound of “hospital,” Karen felt her heart speed up. “Foggy? Foggy, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? What happened to you?”

There’s still no response, but Karen hears Foggy take a deep breath. 

“ ‘s not me, Karen, ‘s Matt,” Foggy manages to get out with shaky breaths. 

“Holy fuck, he’s dead?” Karen’s never really had a good filter, but what else would Matt be in the hospital for? From what she can tell he’s had some pretty serious injuries (like the “car accident”) and never been to the hospital. Why else would Foggy be there or calling her or so upset.

“No, no. He’s not dead, but he tried…” Foggy trails off and Karen can’t finish the sentence. Tried what? Tried to refuse to go to the hospital? Tried to do something idiotic as Daredevil? Tried to... oh God. No. Matt wouldn’t. 

“He tried what Foggy?” Karen hears how shrill her voice is. She doesn’t mean to freak out on Foggy, but this cannot be happening. There’s no way he tried… that. 

Foggy’s voice hitches and then, through soft sobs, “He tried to kill himself, Karen.”

Karen’s phone hit’s the floor just before she does. She can hear Foggy calling out, asking if she’s okay, but of course she isn’t okay, neither is he. Matt might have lied and pushed them away and dropped off the grid, but this? 

The whiskey is burning her throat before she fully processes that she’s grabbed the bottle. The sting of the alcohol brings her back to awareness; she grabs her phone and apologizes to Foggy. 

“What, um, what hospital are you at? Is there anything you need?” What a stupid question. There’s any number of things they both need and it’s not something she can pick up on her way to the hospital. To visit their friend. Who tried to commit suicide. 

“Metro-general. ER waiting room. Not really anything you can bring, but if you could come that would really help me and I think, um, I think Matt will appreciate it if – when he wakes up.”

Karen assures Foggy she’ll be there as soon as possible. She grabs her purse, tossing her phone in, grabs her keys, and leaves her apartment in the sweats and t-shirt she had been lounging around in. On the cab ride to the hospital all she can think is “how did this happen?” 

Before the cab has even come to a full stop, Karen throws open her door, tosses cash up to the cabbie and sprints up to the door searching for signs directing her to the ER waiting room. She’s trying to move as quickly as she can but it feels like she’s fighting through molasses. No matter how quickly she gets there it won’t be fast enough and yet, she doesn’t want to get there, doesn’t know if she can handle this.

“Karen!” Foggy’s shout tells her that she’s made it. Her stomach feels full of lead.

“Oh my God, Foggy!” Karen throws herself into his arms, sobs wracking her body. They hold each other for a few moments and just cry. A kindly older nurse brings them a pack of tissues and presses them into Karen’s hand with a sad smile. 

Once they're both a bit calmer Karen knows she needs to find out more, but she simultaneously knows that finding out more is going to hurt like hell and, sometimes, as the old adage goes, ignorance is bliss.

“So, um, what happened?”

Foggy draws a deep breath and prepares to tell this story for the fourth time in the past hour.

“Apparently Matty’s been going to Mass religiously,” they both gave a watery chuckle at the bad pun, “he’s been going regularly since, you know, everything happened.” Karen nods, it makes sense that Matt would rely more heavily on the church during a difficult time. “He didn’t show up today. His priest called me because he knew that things were bad. He knew Matt was alone, had hoped we’d made up, but also worried that Matt had done something stupid. He was right.” 

Foggy takes a beat to sip water, blow his nose, and try to wipe away the stream of tears that seem to have been steadily falling since finding Matt.

“When I got to Matt’s apartment, I knew. I just knew. I could, you know, smell the blood the minute I opened the door. And I found him on his bed. He had… he had slit his wrists.” 

Foggy’s breath had hitched and Karen rubs his back and starts to take exaggerated breaths, hoping he would match her; hopes she can at least help him a little. She knows that no matter how hard this was for her it had to be a thousand times worse for Foggy. He had known Matt for so long. They were practically brothers. 

“He had slit his wrists and there were cuts everywhere, Karen, he’s been hurting himself for months. Probably since…”

They’re both holding each other and sobbing again, an uncontrolled, ugly sound. 

“There was so much blood, it was everywhere and… he left this.”

Foggy produces the note from his pocket. He doesn’t know what possessed him to grab it as the paramedics were rolling Matt out, but he needed it. He needed this thing that Matt had left for him. Somewhere in his mind he felt that if he just kept this part of Matt with him then Matt couldn’t leave him. So he had clutched the blood-soaked note through the whole ambulance ride while beseeching Matt’s God not to let him die, please God, you can’t take him away from me.

“Foggy, he, he can’t have thought this,” Karen stutters out, turning the note over and over in her hand. “He can’t have thought we would be,” she chokes on the word, “ _free_ without him. He has to know that we loved him, no matter how angry we were.”

“He probably really did believe we'd be better off without him. He was sick Karen, but he hadn’t had an issue with his depression since school. It had been years. I never imagined… I never thought that it could, that this could happen. I failed him. Karen, this is my fault. I should have checked in on him. I shouldn’t have cut him out so completely. Everyone always leaves him Karen. I should have known. I should have known… I should have…” Foggy's voice trails off, as if he has no more energy to even speak. 

Dropping his head into his hands, Foggy’s whole body shakes with his grief. Karen tries to assure him it’s not his fault, because of course it isn’t, but it doesn’t help. It only seems to agitate Foggy, so she stops talking, just pulls Foggy close to her and rest her head on his shoulder. 

Matt could be dying or dead right now. It’s all Karen can think and she imagines the same thought has been plaguing Foggy since they took Matt away from him. 

And they wait.


	6. Matt

The smell of astringent is the first thing Matt smells. There is a man dying down the hall from him and lots of crying everywhere. Matt can’t be surprised that he’s ended up in Hell, but he’s surprised it seems so much like a hospital. Then again, maybe this is a specialized Hell for Matthew Murdock. Some of his worst memories are in the hospital and with his enhanced senses he can hear pain surrounding him; perhaps it’s the wails of other souls burning in Hell… 

Someone is gently pulling at something on his arms. That doesn’t make sense. The touch is comforting and tender. 

“You poor thing.” He can hear concern in the voice. So, maybe he’s in Heaven?

Matt can’t keep himself from flinching when the disinfectant comes in contact with his cuts. 

“Mr. Murdock?” This woman must sense his confusion or hear his ratcheting heart rate on the monitor because she continues, “Mr. Murdock, you’re in the hospital. Don’t worry; you’re safe. Do you think you can give me a sign that you understand me?”

Not Heaven, not Hell, he’s still alive. He failed. Of course he did. 

Putting on his best courtroom face, Matt smiles at (or in the general direction of) the nurse. “Yes, thank you. I’m, uh, actually feeling much better. I was wondering if you had an idea of how much longer I need to stay in the hospital for my injuries.”

Increased heart rate, perspiration, Matt can tell he isn’t going to like the answer.

“Well, Mr. Murdock, that’s a bit complicated. The doctor will come by to talk to you about that, but in the meantime, you have some friends who’ve come to visit you. A…” papers rustle, she must be checking the names, but Matt already knows who it has to be, “A Franklin Nelson and a Karen Page are here, would you like me to show them back?”

He had forgotten to make sure Foggy wasn’t his medical proxy before he did this; he didn’t mean for Foggy to have to deal with this. Another failure. Another way that he hurt Foggy.

“Ah, yes, please.” Act normal. They’re only here because they feel obligated to come; he needs to show them that they don’t owe him anything, that they can really cut him out completely. But there heartbeats are so comforting as he hears them approaching. Be strong Murdock. Do the right thing. Stop hurting them.

“Matt?” Karen’s wobbly inquiry and Foggy’s pitiful sniffling almost break his resolve, but no. They’re great people and they need to be free of him. 

“Hello Karen, Foggy.” Matt keeps his heart rate calm and tries to smile. “It was kind of you to come, but I can take care of this myself. Foggy, I’ll get a new medical proxy so you don’t need to deal with me anymore. I’m sorry you had to be dragged into this. Don’t feel like you need to stay.”

Foggy’s elevated heart rate isn’t a surprise, but the stinging slap Foggy lands on his cheek is. The air tastes of the salt from his tears and a smell that is distinct to Foggy when he’s worried. “You fucking idiot,” is all Foggy gets out before he starts sobbing and Matt hears the whooshing of air that tells him Foggy’s collapsed into the padded chair beside his bed.

Clearly a little taken aback by what’s just occurred, Karen tries again, “Um, what I think Foggy meant by that is, what the hell Matt? Of course we’re going to stay and not because of guilt or whatever weird reason you’ve concocted. We want to stay because we care about you and we don’t want you to be alone while you’re going through this.” She lets out a heavy sigh and Matt can hear the tears creeping into her voice, “And clearly you can’t take care of yourself, Matt. I mean, this isn’t taking care of yourself; this isn’t how life is supposed to be. You could have reached out to us, you know? You do know that, right?”

“Yes, I know you would have tried to help because you’re both good people. You would have been pulled back into the destruction the surrounds me and I couldn’t let that happen to you again. You’re lives are too important.”

“AND YOURS ISN’T?” Foggy is back on his feet and shouting. “You fucking idiot. Your life is important, too. Matty, I don’t want to think of a world without Matthew Michael Murdock in it. Neither does Karen. Okay? I don’t care how angry I am at you. I don’t care that you let Elektra in and let your life go to shit for a second time. Buddy. Maybe Nelson & Murdock was a bad idea as a law firm, but we’re family man. We’re family…” Tears take over again and Matt moves to reach out for Foggy, but his wrists are stiff. 

And then the tears come. Sure, Foggy was saying these things and he meant them now, but once Matt was out of immediate danger he would remember what a horrible friend and partner Matt had been and he would need to leave again and Matt couldn’t go through that again. And Foggy shouldn’t have to. Neither should Karen. He just needs to end it properly so that they can move on, free of him. Matt calms his breathing and tries to put on his most serene smile.

“Okay, buddy. I hear you. Thank you both so much for coming here for me, but I’m feeling exhausted. I think I need to get some real sleep so I can start healing.”

“Alright then, Matt,” Karen gently pats Matt's shoulder, “we’ll be back tomorrow to see you, okay?”

“I love you, buddy.” Foggy musses Matt’s hair and the sign of affection breaks Matt’s heart as he keeps his smile painted on.

“I love you, too. You’re both really incredible. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lie. But the first two things were true, so hopefully they’ll remember that. He listens to their heartbeats for as long as he can for one last time. At least he knows that it's the last time this time around and he can hold onto the warmth they give him, if only for a few moments.


	7. Foggy and Karen

“How much of that did you believe?” Karen hisses.

“Almost none of it. He can put on his courtroom smile all he wants, I can hear it in his voice; he still thinks we’re better without him. He’s going to," Foggy has to brace himself to get force the words out, "try to _kill himself_ again.” God, those words burn in his throat.

He knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but Foggy is shocked by how hollow Matt seemed to be. The determined, snarky, pain in the ass that Foggy had known for so long wasn't in that hospital bed and it hurt so much, he felt like he couldn’t breath. He thought they had gotten him past the “Matt is a worthless, detriment to Foggy’s life” crap during Law School. He thought Matt knew better. Not that he had made it easy. Things were bad at the end of Nelson & Murdock, and sure, it wasn’t Foggy’s fault, but he could have been better about Daredevil. Matt was being stupid, but he wasn’t totally unreasonable; he wanted to help people and he could. 

Foggy heaved a sigh. How had it come to this? 

“So what are we going to do?” Karen had that determined glint in her eyes.

“I don’t know, Karen. I just don’t know. Matt, he’s persistent. When he gets his mind set on something it’s hard, if not impossible to stop him…”

“There has to be something, Foggy.” Desperation was creeping into her voice. “We can’t just wait for him to try again or hope he doesn’t try again or hope he doesn’t succeed when he does. He’s our friend. He can’t…”

“I know. I really don’t know what we can do Karen, but I may know someone we can get to talk to Matt. Someone he might actually listen to.”

Foggy’s heart was heavy. It should be him. It should be Foggy Nelson who can make Matt Murdock listen to him. How had he failed his friend so spectacularly? How had it come it this?


	8. Matt

When the doctor comes to speak with him, Matt knows that he isn’t going to like what he hears. 

“Hello Mr. Murdock, my name is Julie Williams and I’m the on-call psychiatrist here at Metro-General. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Dr. Williams, please, call me Matt. I just made a mistake and it won’t happen again.” Unsurprisingly, the doctor isn’t buying that excuse and Matt can’t say he blames her. It sounded weak to him, but he didn’t really have a better response. He just needed to get out of the hospital.

“Well, Matt, I’m glad that you think it was a mistake, but I’m afraid that, given your condition when you came in, you’re going to need to stay here for a psychiatric evaluation. Given the extent and severity of your injuries, you’re considered a 5150 and New York state law says,”

“That you can commit me to psychiatric treatment for 72 hours against my will. I know; I’m a lawyer.” Matt knew these laws inside and out and when he had learned them, they made sense. When a person is a danger to him or herself they can no longer be allowed to make decisions about their health care since they can no longer make appropriately informed decisions. It’s really a question mental competence. 

Now the law just seemed cruel. Matt wasn’t out of his mind. He could make decisions and the one he wanted to make was to not be anymore. He was done and why did the law see fit to take that away from him?

“Okay then Matt, so you know how this works. You can either voluntarily agree to psychiatric evaluation or we’ll involuntarily commit you.”

“Uh, well, I suppose voluntary it is.”

“I’ve got some paperwork I need you to sign, but, oh…” Matt could hear her heartbeat increase in distress, “let me go see if I can get you a braille copy. You wait right here.”

What an idiotic statement. Of course Matt would be right here, he was hooked up to an IV and presumably under some sort of surveillance given that he was a psych admission. And yes, if he focuses, he can hear a nurse who’s heartbeat is a little elevated as she walks up and down the hall. He can hear the slight shift of the curtain as she methodically peaks in on each patient.

It takes the nurse four minutes to make her rounds and he’s sure Dr. Williams will be searching for the braille documents for a while longer. If he times this correctly it could work. It’s really a Hail Mary, but he can’t be trapped in a hospital for three days. Being surround by agony would only make everything worse.

When the nurse pokes her head in to check on him, Matt says he’s not feeling well and asks to use the restroom. With his most self-effacing smile he asks if she could guide him. He can sense he hesitance to ignore her other patients as she walks him over to the bathroom, but decides to help him. Good. The more she underestimates him the more likely this is to work. 

“Alright Mr. Murdock, handle is right here. Take your time, just don’t block the door, okay?”

She scuttles away before he’s in the bathroom, anxious to make sure no one has died in the thirty seconds she walked Matt over.

Turning on the water, Matt waits for the water to run painfully hot, then plugs the sink to fill the basin. Somehow, his rosary had made it to the hospital with him and it had been left on the little table by his bed. Now he places it on the edge of the sink while he waits for the basin to fill.

“ _Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death._ Amen.”

He hates to do this to his rosary; the one his grandmother had given in him in hopes to drive the devil out. Pulling back his bandages, Matt takes in the damage done earlier today. Matt slides the crucifix under the stitches and rips them out one by one. It hurts and he’s bleeding heavily; the damaged tissue easily opening up again alongside more superficial damage. He repeats the action on the other wrist and slips his wrists into the scalding warm water. It feels like his soul is being cleansed. The warm water should increase his bleeding and the water should stop the clotting. He won’t make the same mistakes as last time.

“ _Hail Mary, full of grace…_ ”

His consciousness is slipping and his legs are giving out, but Matt uses his arms to keep his wrists anchored in the sink. The exertion speeds the bleeding up.

“ _Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death…_ ”

Is he saying the words out loud or are they echoing inside his brain? Matt supposes it’s a moot point. God can hear him either way. He can hear his prayers and hopefully he'll understand. 

With a shaky breath, Matt says what he hopes will be his last word, “Amen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I did this to a crucifix... I hope it's not too offensive to anybody, but I really couldn't think of anything else they would leave near enough a suicide risk that Matt could get it with him. 
> 
> Section 5150 describes the part of the law that allows involuntary psych holds in the State of New York, which basically leaves patients with the choice to "go willingly" or be forced in. It's really not much of an option. I have a lot of feelings about these laws and what they do, but I'll keep that rant to myself. 
> 
> I've never been to a New York hospital... I'm afraid all of my experiences are much more rural, so that's what I'm basing the interaction off of. 
> 
> I swear eventually this won't only be deep pits of sadness...


	9. Claire

The call from Foggy had been a surprise to Claire. She had tried not to worry about their “mutual friend” too much since she had left Metro-General. He seemed to be turning up in the news less and she had hoped that that meant he had found a way to balance his life. Apparently that had not been the case.

“Hi Claire. I, uh, don’t know if you remember me, I’m Foggy, Matt’s friend?”

“Yea, I remember you, how are you?” Claire tried to keep her voice neutral. She had just gotten off of a double shift at her new hospital and she had a feeling any news about Matt was bad news.

“Not great. Ah, actually, really bad.”

“What’s Matt done now?” Her eye roll was probably evident in her voice as she packed up the medical supplies she’s guessing she’ll need to sew Matt back together. As much as Claire wants a hot shower and to sleep she’s already grabbed her keys and is heading for the door when she realizes something must be really wrong. The way Foggy’s voice catches right before he speaks makes Claire’s stomach grip in fear.

“What’s going on Foggy?” She needs to remain calm if she wants to be any help to Matt when she gets to him.

“He tried to kill himself; slit his wrists in his apartment. I found him and he’s been stabilized, but he’s bad, Claire. Matt’s decided that the world is better without him. He’s going to try again. I know it.”

The voice at the other end of the line sounds almost robotic by the end of the statement and Foggy’s numbness is as frightening to Claire as his emotion had been moments earlier. 

“Oh God, he’s an idiot!” 

But she’s not surprised. Matt on the roof of Metro-General from months earlier flashes into Claire’s mind. He was waiting for an attack that he was already punishing himself for. His pain had radiated from him and Claire had hoped it would decrease with his friend out of the hospital. Apparently it had consumed him whole instead. 

“Look, Claire, I don’t really know all of your business with Matt and I’m sorry if this is out of line, but you seem to be one of the few people he actually listens to. If anyone can make him believe he deserves to be alive or isn’t ruining all our lives or whatever, it’s you. I was just hoping that you could go slap some sense into him before he, you know, does something stupid.”

“Of course I’ll go. I’m not sure he’ll listen to me, but I can give it a shot. What hospital is he at?” 

“Metro-General. He was still in the ER when Karen and I visited.” 

Metro-General. Of course. Well there’s gotta be some symbolism of going full circle or some shit, but Claire doesn’t have the energy to try to work it out. She knows the visitor hours off the top of her head and plans to be there as early as possible the next morning.


	10. Foggy

After hanging up with Claire, Foggy texts Karen letting her know that he’s told Claire what's going on. Matt may hate him for bringing another person in, but shit, he’s welcome to hate him because that means he’s alive. Karen texts back immediately in support of his decision; agreeing that any and all steps had to be taken to make Matt see that his life is worth living. She asks if he needs anything and Foggy asks Karen if she’ll come over because he needs human companionship right now. As soon as he sends the text inviting/begging Karen to come over, Foggy sets down his phone and goes to take a quick shower, hoping to wash away some of the awfulness of the day. He’s just turned the water on when he hears his phone ringing and jogs back to his living room. Unknown number. Fuck.

“Franklin Nelson here.”

“Hello, Mr. Nelson? Hi this is Dr. Williams, the ER psychiatrist at Metro-General Hospital. We would really like to talk to you about Mr. Murdock. It’s rather urgent.”

“What’s happened?” He’s dead. He did it. He’s dead. Oh God. Foggy hears his heartbeat pounding and his throat is closing up with his rising anxiety.

“We cannot discuss that over the phone, sir. Please just come into the hospital as soon as you can.”

“Please, just tell me what’s happened.”

“I really can’t discuss that with you, but I can tell you that Mr. Murdock is stable and in the ER.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

Foggy hangs up before getting a response. Matt’s alive (thank God), but what the hell has he done. After hailing a cab, Foggy remembers his message to Karen and calls her to update her. Asks her to meet him at the hospital if she’s willing to. He can hear the steel in her voice when she assures him that, of course she’s willing to, and that she’s there for him and Matt, whenever they need her. A brief smile flits across Foggy’s lips; he’s so thankful for Karen, who’s frail exterior belies the herculean strength underneath. 

The cab driver is wonderfully efficient and Foggy tips him exorbitantly for it. Every minute he’s not at the hospital Matt could be dying or dead. They said stable, but why the hell wouldn’t he be? Foggy knows the answer to that question, but, for once, he’s praying he isn’t right. 

At the ER Foggy is shown to an office where he meets Dr. Williams. Unable to handle pleasantries, Foggy cuts to the chase.

“What happened to Matt?” 

“Mr. Murdock has proved to be an even greater danger to himself than we originally thought.”

“Which means what?” The hard edge in Foggy’s voice is one he generally saves for the lowest of criminals, but how had a hospital let Matt, who was labeled a suicide risk, find a way to hurt himself.

“While I was looking for braille copies of the paperwork for Mr. Murdock to sign he made an attempt on his life.” 

“ **How the fuck did he manage that!?!?** Don’t you people make sure there’s no way for patients who have been admitted for, I don’t know, trying to kill themselves, can’t try to kill themselves again?”

“Of course we do Mr. Nelson and I would appreciate if you control your temper. I understand that you are distressed, but yelling at me is not going to help your friend.”

After a few deep breaths, Foggy is no longer seeing red and tries again, “How did that happen. I was here, he didn’t have access to anything sharp and there was a nurse monitoring all the patients on this hall.”

“I’m afraid this might be a bit disturbing for you to hear, Mr. Nelson,” Foggy nodded for Dr. Williams to continue, “but Mr. Murdock shut himself in the bathroom and used his rosary to rip out his stitches. He came very close to bleeding out, but the hall nurse had the sense to check on him and when she found him unresponsive she entered the bathroom to find him bleeding out on the floor. We’ve closed up the wounds and given him a blood transfusion.”

 _Fucking hell, Matty…_ "Well, how do we fix this Dr. Williams?” 

“I’m afraid that’s complicated. Because of his condition and the circumstances of his admittance, Mr. Murdock is what we call a -”

“Section 5150, I know. I’m a lawyer.”

“Ah, you too? Then you know that he can be voluntarily admitted to a psychiatric inpatient ward or, if he refuses this, I will sign off that he needs to be committed involuntarily. Originally, I had hoped we could find a bed for him here, so as to minimize the shock, but given his condition, I think we need to transfer him to a psychiatric hospital. I fear that Metro-General just doesn’t have the facilities to best help Mr. Murdock.”

“Uh, yea. What has Matt said about this?”

“That’s part of the problem. He’s refusing to speak. We were hoping to talk to you before going through an involuntary procedure and transferring him.”

“Well shit. I know it’s not visiting hours, but do you think I could see him, see if I can get him to talk so he can make his own decisions? Actually, scratch that. As his legal counsel I’m going to go confer with my client so as to assure that all decisions are made in his best interests.”

With that, Foggy left Dr. Williams’ office and headed to Matt’s hospital bed. The curtains were no longer drawn around it and there was a young (and rather terrified looking) nurse sitting and watching Matt. It seemed to Foggy that she wasn’t blinking. 

Matt looked like a ghost. He was sitting up in the bed, unmoving, head facing straight forward. His skin looked like paper and his lips were shades lighter than their usual ridiculously red color. When Foggy’s eyes drift to Matt’s wrists he quickly changes his focus, unable to clear the image of Matt’s gauged wrists from this morning. (God was the really just this morning?) Foggy’s eyes land on the bag attached to Matt’s IV, which is labeled ‘Ativan’.

“What the fuck medication have you put him on?” Foggy demands of the scared nurse.

“I’m sorry, sir. You shouldn’t be here,” she manages to squeak out.

“I’m his medical proxy and his legal counsel. What. Medication. Is. This?”

“Ativan, it’s a sedative, just to help Mr. Murdock calm down, so he doesn’t become agitated and try to hurt himself again.”

“Yea, you’re going to take him off of that right now.” Foggy can’t imagine what a chemical sedative is doing to Matt’s senses. He may not be talking because he’s too confused or out of it.

The nurse flies into action without a word, then returns to her seat to watch over Matt. 

“You can go. I would like to confer with my client.” Foggy hates whipping out his ‘angry lawyer’ voice so much, but his best friend’s life was on the line and if that’s not the time to scare people, Foggy doesn’t know when is. 

Once they’re alone, Foggy flounders for a minute. He has no idea what Ativan is going to have done to Matt’s sense, but he needs to try to talk to him before Matt gets packed off to Bellevue against, what Foggy's sure are, his wishes. 

“Hey, Matty, do you hear me? I know they put you on drugs, so maybe not, but just give me a nod if you understand me.”

Matt’s head bobs aggressively up and down.

“Okay buddy. I hear you. I’m right here and I want what’s best for you. Let me guess, the meds are muddling with your sense, but I’m here for you Matt. You can’t get rid of me.” 

Tears are leaking down Matt’s face as his head bobs adamantly. 

“Okay. Calm down. It’s going to be okay. They’re taking you off the meds and I’m going to do my best to get you out of a hospital as soon as possible. Okay buddy?”

Matt’s nod almost scared Foggy with its ferocity.


	11. Claire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by champagne and the Hamilton soundtrack

When Claire arrives at Metro-General everything is a bit surreal. The last time she was here she had walked out on her job because the hospital was covering up a murder and kidnapping by ninjas, which, in and of itself, is pretty damn surreal. Claire had kind of assumed that walking out of the hospital also meant walking out of Matt’s life. Apparently now she’s back in his life, in this hospital (that he refused to go to) trying to save his life, not as a nurse, but as his friend. It was all very strange.

On her way into ER, Claire runs into acquaintances and dodges questions about why she’s there. She sees no shame in Matt’s condition, but it’s his business and he’s nothing if not a private guy. 

Taking a deep breath, Claire pulls back the curtain to find Matt sitting with a man in a cassock, presumably Matt’s priest. 

“Hey Matt. Sorry, I didn’t know you were visiting with someone. I’ll just wait out here until your done?”

Matt grimaces and the priest stands.

“Hello, I’m Father Lantom. I was just on my way out. I’m glad to see that Matthew has so many people who care about him.” Father Lantom’s voice increases in volume on the last sentence and Claire has to smile as she sees Matt shake his head minutely. 

“Nice to meet you, father,” Claire is genuinely glad to see someone else here that cares about Matt and someone Matt may actually listen to. She smiles as Father Lantom heads out and takes a deep breath before walking in and pulling the chair closer to the bed.

“Hey dumbass.”

“Claire.” He huffs her name out and it’s heartening to see that he’s at least still got some fight in him.

“So, how are you doing?” This is not a conversation that Claire ever planned on having with anyone, especially not Matt, but here they are. She’s not normally one to beat around the bush, but with something this important she knows she needs to approach with caution. It’s not like Matt’s the first person she’s seen in the ER like this, but he’s the first one she’s had to be more than a nurse for.

“You know how I’m doing. I’m assuming Foggy called you? Yea. That’s what I thought. I’m going to be fine Claire. It was just a moment of weakness; I know that New York needs Daredevil. I’ll be back on my feet soon.”

“Hey, Saint Matthew? You need to stop with this martyr bullshit. You’re not alone. I’m here. Your priest came to the hospital for you and I can tell that Foggy is worried sick over you. But more than that, you’re a fucking human being who deserves to live your life. Not because “Hell’s Kitchen needs you,” but because you are a person, not just a person, a good person. The world deserves you because Matt Murdock is a good, if complicated, man and you deserve the world. Get that through your thick skull.” Heart racing, Claire imagines that her breaths are thunderous to Matt’s ears, but that should show him how much she cares about him.

Claire has fished bullets out of Matt, stitched gashes that came close to organs, and rebroken bones to set them correctly, but she has never seen him look this pained. His voice is shockingly shaky. 

“I’m no martyr, Claire, I’m just doing what I can to fix things…” He trails off and she thinks she hears the word ‘atonement’ in there somewhere. The eye roll is practically an involuntary reaction to Matt’s standard idiocy.

“Damn it Matt! That’s the bullshit you need to let go of. You may have things to atone for with your friends, but not with the world. You don’t owe the world jack shit. Be Daredevil because you need it, because helping people is what you do, not because you need to atone for being born.”

“ **My father is dead because of me!** I’ll never atone for that.” Matt's shouting in his vigilante voice; the fight in Matt’s voice is heartening, but the words almost break Claire.

“No, Matt.” Reaching out she grabs Matt’s shoulder and squeezes. “Matt, someone else murdered your father. Not you, his kind, loving, shockingly Catholic son. Would your father want you to be like this?” Matt’s face distorts, “Not like that. You don’t have to stay alive because he’d want it, but he loved you, right? No one who loves you wants to see you punishing yourself like this, okay?”

“You don’t understand Claire. I’ve hurt so many people; people have died because of me…” 

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to fail to save people? Do you know how many people I’ve lost in the ER? You don’t have a monopoly on failing to save people Matt. Me, my coworkers, we see people die almost daily. It doesn’t stop hurting, but if I blamed myself like this I would fall apart at the seams. We all would. Why is the life of every resident your responsibility? Why are you more responsible for their lives than their doctors and nurses, the people paid to save them? Why would God expect more from you than everyone else; are you more important than us? No? Then you can’t torture yourself like this.”

“I’m no better than you, but Claire – ”

“No. You can keep the people you lose with you without letting it kill you Matt. It’s as simple as that.”

He’s fallen quiet with his eyes turned down to his hands. They’re fidgeting as if he’s trying to pray the rosary without one. 

“Look, Matt. I don’t mean that you need to stop being who you are, but you also can’t go on like this. You’re allowed to need other people and you’re allowed to get help. Matt, taking care of yourself isn’t somehow letting other people down. Hell, it’s helping them. Your friends are better off when you take care of yourself. I don’t know where things are with you and Foggy and Karen, but I’m here. And maybe you can fix things with them. Clearly they still care about you. And if not, you go on. You go and find a new job, new friends, and a new life. Matt you need to live.”

“Maybe… I just, I just don’t know how to do that. I’ve never relied on anyone. I let Foggy in and look at that what did. I’ve hurt him time and time and time again because he had the misfortune of being my roommate.”

“Matt. Hair shirt. Take it off. Foggy was lucky to be your roommate. You fucked up and you can feel guilty about that, but then do something about it instead of wallowing. But first, you need help Matt. You need to do something about your depression. If you don’t want to hurt people then you can’t hurt yourself. That hurts other people. And, look, I want you to do it for you, but I know that’s not an easy thing for you. Do it for us, okay? Because, damn it, Matthew Michael Murdock, I give a shit if you live or die.”

Maybe it’s just her imagination, but Matt’s face seems to have softened. There are tears dripping down his face (and Claire’s as well, she realizes), but there’s a childish openness that Claire hasn’t ever seen on Matt’s face. She imagines no one’s seen it, except maybe Foggy and Matt’s dad. 

“Oh Matt. You’re a good man, okay? You know that you can call me with your, you know, real phone and I’ll still happily come help. You hear me?” Matt nods, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Good. Now, I’m going to guess the uptight psychiatrist has some papers for you to sign and I think I can hear Foggy, but I guess you already knew he’s here?”

Matt nods again and Claire leans in and places a kiss on his forehead before heading out.

“See you soon, Matt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope the stuff Claire says to Matt doesn't seem too OOC. It's mostly based on the things loved ones told me after a suicide attempt/things I know I could have used to hear. So Claire is basically angel of knowing what suicidal people need, but that seems realistic to me, maybe?


	12. Foggy

In the hall Foggy confers with Claire. He doesn’t even bother whispering because Matt’s going to overhear them anyways.

“Thank you so much for coming Claire," Foggy says and really, really means it.

“Of course I’m here. I care about Matt. He might be an idiot, but he’s a lovable idiot.” Her smile makes Foggy think the last comment was more for Matt’s benefit than his. 

"How does he seem to you?" 

“Honestly? He's definitely going to need a lot help and work going forward, but he seems like he may finally be listening to reason. He needed some tough love, but I think he might have actually heard me.”

“I hope so…” He knows he sounds dejected, but he can't let himself get his hopes up. Claire surprises Foggy when she pulls him into a hug. 

“Hey, Foggy, take care of yourself too, yea? And call me again if you need something.”

Claire waves to Foggy with a sympathetic smile as she heads out of the ER. Honestly, Foggy’s relieved that she came and maybe Matt really did hear her; he’s glad that she’s still there for Matt.

“Hey Matty.” Foggy calls out as he slips past the curtain and seats himself next to the hospital bed. “Sorry about calling Claire in, man, but I didn’t know what else to do.”  
“I know, Fog. You always mean the best. You really are too good for me.” Matt's self-effacing smile kind of pisses Foggy off.

“Bullshit Murdock. It’s time to stop thinking that. You owe me a big ass apology for the shit you pulled during the Punisher trial, but, dude, I owe you an apology for a zillion things too, okay? Neither of us are perfect and you can’t keep pretending I’m some saint.”

“But Fogs, you are.”

“That’s not fair Matt. You can’t expect that from me. I love you, I want you in my life, but I’m going to fuck up from time to time and so are you. And you know what? That’s because we’re both humans. You’re hurting both of us when you don’t accept that.” 

Matt jaw is tense and there's a deep furrow in his brow. So maybe now isn’t time to try to convince Matt that he needs to love himself and all that, but they can have that conversation later. Time to lighten the mood.

“But man, the most important thing is that I love you and I want you in my life.” Foggy lowers his voice as he says, “I even think I can work on letting Daredevil into my life.”

Matt's silent for a while and Foggy's worried he's done something wrong. He's afraid Matt's going to pretend to be okay and send him away, but then Matt chokes on a sob as he asks, “Really?”

The only thing left for Foggy to do is scoop Matt into his arms, careful not to disturb Matt’s IV line. They stay like that, with Foggy perched on the edge of the bed with Matt clinging to him, both of them shaking with emotion, until someone pulls back the curtain and clears their throat. 

Foggy untangles himself from Matt carefully, stands and turns to face Dr. Williams. 

“Doctor.” Foggy nods his head at her.

“Hello again,” her tone is polite but clipped, apparently not particularly pleased with their last interaction. Dr. Williams steps up to the foot of Matt’s bed. “Mr. Murdock, I think we should talk one-on-one to work out a plan for your treatment.”

Before Foggy can whip out the ‘lawyer card,’ Matt says, “No. Foggy stays,” in a clear and strong voice. 

Both Foggy and the doctor are taken aback, Dr. Williams clearly frustrated by Matt's sudden sense of agency. Foggy is elated to see this man, his best friend is still in there, the young, blind lawyer with fire in his eyes seems reborn in Matt. It’s with considerable effort that Foggy tamps down his grin and says, “I’ll be staying as his lawyer and friend.”

Dr. Williams sighs, “Well, you both know the law and the situation. Matthew will either sign off that he wants to enter an inpatient facility or I will sign off that he needs to be placed in inpatient care for his own safety.”

Matt looks like he’s going to be sick.

“Okay, doctor, tell me about how the hospital is prepared to accommodate Mr. Murdock’s disability.”

“Mr. Nelson, we are a hospital, we know how to care for the visually impaired. That is not something you need to worry about.”

“Sorry Dr. Williams, but that’s not an answer. I’d like you to show me the ward so I can assure it’s accessible and ADA compliant.” Foggy definitely doesn’t feel good about the implied threat against Metro-General, but Matt’s worth it. Being confined without access to any real exercise, trapped hearing the pain in the hospital and in the city, held captive with the ghosts of his childhood Matt would only get worse.

“Look, Mr. Nelson, there’s not even a bed available here, so Mr. Murdock will almost definitely be transferred out to another New York hospital. When we find a bed for him you are more than welcome to check their ADA compliance.”

“Well, Mr. Murdock has been in the hospital for over 24 hours and is therefore entitled to another psychiatric evaluation to determine if he needs to stay here. And I’d like it to be a different doctor. I’m sure you have the best intentions doctor, but your evaluation will be biased by your previous interaction with Mr. Murdock.”

Without responding, Dr. Williams huffs out and slides Matt’s curtain closed.

Matt snickers and Foggy turns to face him tilting his head. “She said something about ‘fucking lawyers’ as she stormed off.”

Hearing Matt laugh, Foggy thinks, is the sweetest thing he has ever heard. He lets himself join in the laughter and seats himself beside Matt. And when Matt reaches out, Foggy immediately grabs and squeezes his hand. Everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm not a lawyer, so the 24 evaluation thing is based on Massachusetts practice. Every 24 hours you can demand to be evaluated again and potentially get cleared for discharge.
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me guys!


	13. Matt

For the first time in a while, Matt’s glad that lying is second nature to him. Convincing the new psychiatrist that he was stable enough to be released was actually quite simple. And honestly, he probably was healthier than he had been in months. Before he could be discharged, a few more contingencies needed to be put in place.

The first was setting Matt up with outpatient therapy. The doctor called a local psychologist to set up an intake session with Matt in the next few days and, if that went well, Matt was to see her twice a week until she saw fit to lower his sessions to once a week. A visit to a psychiatrist was suggested but not required. Matt figures he can take a pass on that one, given the potential effects medication could have on his senses and general ability to function. On top of therapy, the doctor also didn’t want Matt to be alone following his release from the hospital. Blushing, Matt stutters out that he lives alone.

“What about your friend? Do you think you could stay with him for a few days?” The flush in Matt’s cheeks spreads as he ponders the questions. Foggy had said he was here to stay and Claire had said he needed to accept help and maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t too much to ask.

“Let me ask him?” Matt’s not sure he wants to risk asking this big of a favor of Foggy, but he tries to listen to what he’s heard in the last 24 hours instead of what he’s been telling himself for the past thirty years.

“Sure thing, let me show him in.”

The doctor steps out and quietly tells Foggy that Matt would like to speak to him.

“What’s up Matty?”

Meditative breaths. You can do this Matthew. You’ve taken down crime lords and criminal syndicates; I think you can ask your friend to crash at his place for a few days. You have done harder things and this is not the end of the world. Breathe.

Foggy is waiting patiently, bless him, but his heart rate has increased and Matt needs to say something so he doesn’t freak Foggy out anymore.

“Look, Fogs, I know it’s a lot to ask and you’ve already done so much for me and I don't want to put you out or take up more of your time and if you can't that's totally okay, I'll figure it out, but they said that my release is contingent on…”

“Spit it out, Matt”

“D’youthinkIcanstaywithyou?” It rushes out all together in one breath. 

“Dude, of course. You had we worried you were going to try to pretend you were totally fine and didn't need anything or ask me to lawyer at this psychiatrist too or something.”

“Um, did you just use lawyer as a verb?”

“I did and it was eloquent as fuck. Don’t question me Murdock. Now let’s find the doctor so we can get you fuck outta here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just kidding now there's an epilogue, partially because I'm weird and don't like having a fic like this have 13 chapters...
> 
> one more little piece :)


	14. Epilogue

It’s been a little more than a year since “The Hospital Incident”, as it’s called in the Page-Nelson-Murdock family and everything is better; not perfect, definitely different, but better for it. Matt’s week at Foggy’s apartment somehow became a month and when their leases ran out they found a two bedroom to share rather than stay where the memories of blood and fear and anger were as much a part of the apartments as the paint on the walls. 

Moving Matt out of his apartment had been complicated. If Karen had her way, Matt would never set foot in the apartment ever again, but Foggy and Matt reasoned that he needed to make the decisions about what he kept and what he got rid of, what items' smells triggered Matt, what things could absolutely not be left behind, and what else was safe to bring into a new space.

Had it been left to Matt and Foggy, the moving process would probably have taken months because picking through Matt’s things ended up in smiling reminiscence or sobbing apologies. Thank God for Karen. While she loved their happy, goofy, wacky stories from the past, she kept them on task and managed to help them minimize the tears. Sometimes she got caught up in it too; there was certainly good and bad memories for her in Matt’s apartment and when Karen lost control they usually ended up a heaping mass of tears on the couch. But even that was good. With everything on the table the three of them could move forward as the bizarre family that they were clearly meant to be. 

Foggy’s salary from HCB made it fairly simple to replace the things that needed to be replaced (like the blood soaked mattress that Karen managed to dispose of before Matt was out of the hospital. “He didn’t ever need to see… or sense that thing. Ever.”) Convincing Matt to let him pay for the items was another story, but they even managed that. 

It took some time, but Foggy began to learn Matt’s tells. The days that he found Matt quietly running his fingers over the scars on his wrists while seemingly lost in thought were the days that Foggy made sure Matt’s room and the bathroom were clear of sharps and that the sharp knives magically disappeared from the kitchen. He tried to turn him away from Dardevil-ing those days, too, but it didn’t work very often. Even then, he was there, waiting for Matt to stumble in through the window to check Matt over and clean up those wounds that were “nothing, really.” Sometimes it felt like an invasion of privacy and sometimes Matt got angry and yelled, but those days became less frequent the longer Matt was in therapy. And he always apologized, always tried to talk to Foggy afterwards as much as he could. Honestly, it was heartbreaking for Foggy to hear all the innumerous ways that Matt saw himself as a failure and all the ways he tried to punish himself for those failures. Guilt sits like a stone in Foggy’s stomach when the enormity of Matt’s self-loathing really becomes clear the first time Foggy finds him with a blade in hand, contemplating his wrists. There was screaming and crying on both ends that time, but after, when they were curled up on the couch after God knows how many apologies, Matt tells Foggy he loves him without any caveats about his own failures or not deserving it and it feels like a huge step forward. 

On the year anniversary of The Hospital Incident, Foggy takes a day off work as a precaution, while hoping that Matt wouldn’t realize the date. Of course, he does, and Foggy is so glad he was there and that he conveniently had plans to have Karen come over for lunch because Matt needed them to be there. He never would have said it. He would have suffered in silence, maybe even had a backslide, but both Foggy and Karen can see the way their presences anchor him to the present. And when Foggy can hear Matt’s choked, held back sobs through the wall as he’s trying to go to sleep he just crawls into bed with Matt and holds him. When they wake up like that, with Foggy wrapped around Matt, they don't say anything because there's nothing more to be said that Foggy's actions haven't spelled out.

It’s Thanksgiving, a holiday that has always meant _alone_ and _orphan_ to Matt, even when he went home with Foggy in their school days. Now, it’s not like that. The apartment he shares with his best friend is filled with the smells of cooking and candles while he and Foggy and Karen bicker over what “real” Thanksgiving food is. Matt doesn’t really have any feelings on the subject since he doesn’t have the sentimental attachments that Foggy and Karen do, but it’s fun to join in. Claire is joining them later when she gets off her shift and Marci may or may not be making an appearance, Foggy really couldn’t tell if she was joking or not when she accepted the invitation. The apartment would continue to be loud and overwhelming and filled with a family they built. For the first time in a long time, or maybe ever, Matt felt like he belonged. He felt like he finally had a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Writing this has been an amazing, cathartic and incredibly challenging task for me and I'm so happy to see other people reading and, possibly, enjoying it. 
> 
> If you ever want to talk about this or depression in general you can find me on tumblr: electriceell.tumblr.com


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